


Crazy love

by ShyLady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Mutual Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyLady/pseuds/ShyLady
Summary: Setting: Westeros in the crazy twenties (sort of).
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 93





	Crazy love

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Westeros in the crazy twenties (sort of).

Brienne met Jaime Lannister during the war. Both were in allied armies for political reasons, but with a long history of enmity in fact. He came from the east and she from the south. It was obvious to Brienne that their relationships would be strained. It was a matter of loyalty. It was almost her duty to despise him.

* * *

Jaime thought that Brienne was one of the thousands of nurses who served in the army, or one of the munitions factory workers. But the huge girl, with her ugly and freckled face, was part of the reserve, and they had brought her because she was one of the best snipers in Stormland. Jaime was curious from the beginning. There was something about her, an invisible magnet that dragged him like an iron nail.

The girl was quite serious and silent, and did not like to fraternize with her fellow soldiers, too surly and stubborn. These qualities were useful on the battlefield, but not in the small social life of the camp. No wonder she was soon isolated. People were always more cruel when they felt fear.

And fear and insecurity was something that the wench caused.

* * *

Many things happened in the war. One of them left Jaime one-handed. The other marked Brienne on the left cheek. In the end, when the victory was of the politicians and the thirst for blood had corrupted the soldiers, they both realized that they shared something, both were broken and alone in a world that was returning from death.

* * *

Brienne woke up one morning, before returning home, and realized the mark that had appeared on one of her breasts. It was small, darker than her freckles. Then she knew. She knew Jaime was the cause.

There were no rules for this. Some said that the most common situation was that one was born with the mark, but others thought that it could appear throughout life. Most people found their partner, because the marks identified them, they always had to be the same. But Brienne also knew of people dying without having met her "other half." Or people destined to love someone who would never correspond to them.

With her luck, she knew what would happen. And she felt terrified.

* * *

She kept it a secret, of course, at least until they returned from the war.

Once she timidly asked Jaime if he had a mark. He said no, that the gods had obviously decided to leave him at the mercy of loneliness. Years later he told her about Cersei, his sister. And many things made sense.

Brienne knew that if she had the mark and he didn't, they would never be together. She cried for weeks, locked in her room, trying to tear the pain from her chest. Even so, she couldn't resist sharing Jaime's company. He was always there, looking for her.

* * *

One afternoon Brienne and Jaime went to the park, to see the arrival of the birds by spring. They sat on the grass to enjoy the view of the lake and the grove full of trills. Brienne felt calm and strangely cheerful.

"My father wants me to spend time in High Garden," she said suddenly.

Jaime frowned.

“And just in case he wants you to meet someone?”

Brienne blushed and looked away.

"He mentioned the name of Willas Tyrrell."

Jaime sighed loudly.

“Oh. This time is not a bad choice.”

“Do you know who he is?”

"He is a good boy."

“Seriously?”

"But he's lame," he added, looking distractedly at two children playing with a puppy.

"You know I don't care about that."

"And he has a fairly flat sense of humor. You would die of boredom with him.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, but once you said that I could live happily in a sept."

“Stubborn girl. That was before I realized that ...,” he approached her and whispered in her ear : “deep down you are a wicked wench.”

Brienne shivered.

“Where did you get that?”

He laughed heartily.

“I read you like an open book.”

“Oh, please.”

Jaime reached out his left hand to grab Brienne's, but she shied away from his touch. Brienne was brave, like none, but not with Jaime. He could be a friend, he could be his partner, but he could never go through her walls. Jaime pretended on that occasion, as in many others, his disappointment.

* * *

Brienne always wore wide and long blouses and skirts that reached her ankles. She looked like a midwife, with her thick arms and wide hips. But unlike one of those voluptuous ladies, she had a flat chest and no sweet expression. The way she saw everything, with excessive formality, made her seem capable of breaking any man's neck at the slightest discomfort.

But Jaime soon realized that the girl had a tender heart and an endearing naivety. The war had marked her face, but had not completely broken her; it had not stripped her of that innate goodness that could not be hidden, not even with the fiercest glare in the world.

Jaime loved her in a certain way. He realized that many years after he met her, when he understood that he did not want to return to Casterly Rock, although his business in the Stormlands no longer required his constant presence. He wondered sometimes if seeing her was enough, if only listening to her voice or contemplating her smile could be reason enough to keep him close. It was a strange trick of fate. She was there by his side, warm as fire and also inaccessible.

* * *

Brienne's father was always looking to marry her. But his arrangements never worked. Until a Dornish man arrived and he really seemed interested. Brienne thought maybe it would be the solution. Then she would take refuge on her island, with a perfect excuse. She was tired of wearing the mark on her breast.

She just didn't know how to say goodbye to Jaime.

How to say goodbye without telling the truth.

* * *

One morning Brienne went to his home, angry with him, as he was not so strange to the routine. The servants knew her and she had no trouble getting to his room. She entered without knocking and found him packing luggage. Jaime had told her, he was going to Lannisport for a few months, to solve some business of his father.

"You bought the property on the island." She shot without saying hello.

Jaime turned to her in surprise. He wore a white shirt and dark pants. It was obvious that he had not planned to leave yet. His vest and jacket were missing.

“Yes”, he replied simply.

“How dare you?”

He seemed to doubt.

“It was a surprise, a present for you”.

That outraged her more. “Truly?”

Brienne was taller than him, wider. She looked not very delicate, really. She wore a large blouse, tucked into a skirt of plain brown, a leather belt and boots with square heels, which did not combine, completed her outfit.

"Come on, it's not that bad ..."

"Oh, for the Seven. The only reason you bought that property was because I told you that my father was going to do it.”

“And you know what he had planned? You know that was going to be part of the marriage agreement with that Dornish ...”

“Do not. You are not going to insult my father or him.”

He advanced towards her in a rage. “So you knew it?”

Brienne backed away.

“Do not worry. I don't think it would have worked with this.” She pointed to her left cheek.

Jaime shrugged.

“Disillusioned?”

"Catelyn Stark is right." Brienne narrowed her eyes. “I've lost my sanity. I should not continue with this.

"Come with me," Jaime said suddenly.

“My father will surely be happy to hear that.”

"We've fought together before. I haven't seen anyone braver than you, don't you take pride in that? Help me in Lannisport. I don't trust anyone else.”

"I'm not a girl anymore. I also have responsibilities. I can't just escape from my home. My life is here now.”

"Brienne ... I've been thinking about ... this ... and I ... maybe I'll stay there, permanently"

She looked surprised. “Oh.”

It was tragicomic. There, standing in front of the wench, Jaime felt his eyes burn and his chest ached.

“Come with me. I want you to come with me.”

"You don't know what you're asking."

"Yes, I know very well. And you too.”

Brienne started to cry. “I can´t. I can´t.”

“Why? I will do everything you want. Everything your father wants. I will marry you and ...”

“Do not. You do not love me…”

Jaime rubbed his face with his left hand.

“And you?”

"You have no right to ask me that."

“Why? Because you have someone else's mark or because you don't have any? Is it your hopeless romanticism or ...?”

Brienne opened her blouse, her face red and furious, and her eyes full of tears.

“You can see?”

Jaime was silent.

"You're going to hurt me," Brienne continued. "If you estimate me in anything ..."

Jaime moved towards her and kissed her. When he found her mouth, he collided with her teeth and didn't care. Nor did he care that given her inexperience Brienne could barely fulfill his strokes.

"Don't leave me, please, Brienne. Do not leave.”

The girl kissed him on the cheeks, his jaw, his neck. Her warm hands fluttered on his back and shoulders, and Jaime thought he could spend an eternity in the seven hells for a life with her.

"I need you ..." Brienne whispered in his ear.

Jaime pushed her toward the bed, giving her little time to catch her breath, between kisses. He fell on her on the bed, squeezing one of her breasts with her left hand.

"I love you ... I need you ..." she kept repeating.

"Brienne ..." Jaime lifted her skirt, exposing her long legs. He stroked her over the silk stockings, and dragged them down, breaking them along the way.

That was how he had imagined her so many times in his feverish dreams. He took the edge of his bodice and pulled it to free one of his breasts, the one with the mark. He kissed her there leaving the freckled skin flushed, and then took the nipple between his teeth. Brienne groaned. His hands ran down his back, over his shirt, and then his buttocks, bringing him closer to the apex of her thighs.

Jaime introduced his hand inside Brienne's skirts and between her underwear. He stroked her there, and looked for her core to feel her moisture.

"Ready ..." he murmured in one ear.

Brienne groaned again, while her hips sought friction from Jaime's fingers.

"Please ..." she pleaded, narrowing her eyes.

"My dear Brienne ..." Jaime unzipped his pants and released his cock, hard and aching.

The wench helped him to settle between her legs and with a kiss urged him to continue. He penetrated her in a single movement, uttering a sharp and obscene sound. While Brienne got used to having him inside, she stroked her hair and smiled at him. Her huge blue eyes looked at him with desire and tenderness. He began to move slowly until she could keep up. Soon her thighs tightened and he felt the heels of her boots hitting his hips.

It was too good. It felt too intense to last. Jaime hastened the pace. Brienne stabbed her nails, seeking to grab her shoulders. She came first, shouting his name again and again. Jaime trusted three more times before spilling inside. He fell on her, crushing her. Brienne wrapped her arms around him and let him rest his head on her breasts.

"Your mark ..." he murmured drowsily. "Your mark is the same as mine."

Brienne shivered.

"You said you had no mark."

He waited a moment before continuing. "It was in my right hand."

“What?” Brienne took Jaime's face with both hands. “How I can believe you? Do you want me to believe that now?”

“Yes. You know I´m not lying, because you know me too well, right?”

"Even if it wasn't the same. Even if the mark wasn't the same as yours, I ... would always be in love.”

“Will you come with me to Lannisport then?”

She sighed. “Silly man.”

He smiled, narrowing his eyes.

“Stubborn wench”.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.


End file.
